


M’Wife

by Orions_Belt



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:18:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orions_Belt/pseuds/Orions_Belt
Summary: Berwald really, really, genuinely loves Timo. Timo doesn't seem to see it though, no matter how hard he tries...





	M’Wife

          Berwald has been around for far longer than any human memory can suffice. He’s seen things, heard things, _lived through things._ War, alliances, backstabbing, turncoats… true friends. Family. He would say that he’s seen it all, but so would the Berwald from 200 years back. The world never stops changing.

Its dizzying, at times.

With all the hardships going on, with every blizzard and gunshot and emptied vat of beer… even he starts to lose himself. Close in on himself, keep his emotions close to his core and develop a hard outer shell to protect them. It's easy, in retrospect. No close ties means no tears shed when the string has to be cut. No worries, when his favorite soldier falls to the ground. No worries, when his fellow nations fall. When they wither away.

He’d be lost in it, if it wasn’t for Timo.

Timo, with his bright smile and shaky but firm hand on his shoulder. Berwald had grown up with his Nordic… family. He and Mathias had never gotten along, inside or outside of nation matters. Not when Russia stole Timo away from him, and Berwald, in his despair, took Norway. He still remembers Lukas looking down at him, face twisted in disappointment and disgust while Berwald tried to ignore the growing taste of iron in his mouth.

“You’re pathetic.” Ice down his spine.

“Taking out your anger on Mathias because of damn Russia- do you see what you did!? If you start a war, don’t expect any support from me or my people. I'll make sure the last knife you feel is mine.”

Berwald didn't dare look up. His knees ached but he would never be caught looking up to Lukas. Not like this.

He did allow himself to flinch when the door slammed though. And the tears to roll when he coughed up the blood. Back then he didn't know if he’d ever see Timo again.

 

          But now, as the meeting ran long, and Timo snickered at some drama across the table, it was easier to breathe. He cared for Timo, he really really did.

_I should let him know in a more… forward manner._ Berwald thought. _I’ll never get the message across otherwise._

So after the meeting was done, and England was stealing the spotlight with France, he approached him.

A hand on his shoulder, “Timo.”

Timo jumped and dropped his bag. Papers and a few pens flew out. He turned around in a panic.

“S-Sverige!”

Berwald frowned at the formalism. Timo looked like he might pass out.

“Ah, excuse me. I need to pick these up- I have to go somewhere quickly after this.”

“Oh.”

Berwald watched him sweep everything into his bag too quickly to be organized, and all but sprint away.

 

          He tried again after that, of course he did, he knew better than to roll over after one go. But all his attempts were turned down or unsuccessful. Between his own sudden nervousness and Timo’s unwillingness… he wasn't getting anywhere. Other nations had begun to notice it when Berwald paused at doors to wait for Timo, or when he attempted to tell him a joke. Some of them, like France, would coyly assume… ulterior motives. Others, like Mathias, started to walk closer to Timo when they were in a room together. Berwald had a million different ways he could communicate just how much he appreciated that, but he could already tell that Timo was scared. Better not to have anyone’s absence be drawn to him just yet.

He tried to pretend it didn't get to him. How Timo brushed off his attempts to be polite, or when he laughed nervously when Berwald was being serious. He had put up with it for years and years, so why now? Why did it hurt so much now?

He’d give it a break for awhile, Berwald decided, lying awake for the seventh night in a row, tears pricking at his eyes. Maybe Timo just needed a break.

 

          Turns out that people notice, when such a huge presence is no longer around. At meetings- Nordic or otherwise, he’s one of the first to leave. When America sends out invites to some party he’s holding, he’s the first to decline. His house isn’t so bad when he thinks about it. Bed big enough for two… kitchen big enough for Berwald to cook around someone else. Timo would like this place he thinks, before his mood plummets.

_No, you're here_. He reprimanded himself. _Timo would hate this place._

Its all routine from here. Drink now and crash before the worst thoughts come in. It’s common knowledge, Nations can’t get alcohol poisoning.

 

          He hasn’t left his house in days. Days? Weeks? Hopefully not a month. None of the meetings have been important enough for Berwald to attend anyway, they were cover-ups for a wrestling ring so everyone gets to watch Britain snap and snarl at France who returns it in kind before Germany finally takes control of the situation.

He rolled onto his side. It was starting to get to him, really. Always being surrounded by possible enemies, never truly being able to let his guard down. Back in the days when he and Timo were traveling together- free from their control from Denmark, he didn't have to worry so much. If he was sad, he would show it. If something was wrong, Timo knew. He’d always be there, with a hand on his shoulder and a smile that without fail reached his eyes. Always…

Berwald dragged his hands over his eyes as tears burned them again. Timo had done more for him then he knew. He thought he was fine on his own, standing tall and intimidating, glaring at anyone who dare think about coming his way. But surrounding yourself with knives to keep away enemies keeps away friends as well. What's better, then? Be safe and alone, or open but happy?

Timo made him happy, that's for sure. Made it easier for him to forgive himself for acting out and making harsh decisions. Made is easier to not always have his guard up, to let people in every once in awhile. He wasn’t so alone with Timo. Timo was the last good thing in the world to him.

...And he hated Berwald.

 

          About two months later, there was a knock on his front door. The staff opened it, of course, and recognizing Timo, scrambled to wake him. He knew how he must’ve looked, leaving his room for the first time in months. His glasses were nowhere to be found, so it was taking most of his concentration not to trip. His clothes were wrinkled and ruffled, and with the heating he could afford to go barefoot. He must smell horrible as well. Hopefully his… guest, wouldn't mind.

He was sitting at the simple kitchen table, not the grand official one in the dining room. He had a blue tote bag whose size betrayed how full it was, and, upon seeing Berwald walk in, a nervous look on his face. (Well, his body language was nervous. Without his glasses, Berwald couldn’t see all the way across the room.)

“...Berwald?” Timo asked. Some small part of him clicked, and started excitedly rousing the others.

“Oh.” He blinked. “Sorry ‘bout that. Let m’ get you s’mething to drink. Are you hungry?”

If Timo was able to cross the kitchen in the short amount of time it should've taken Berwald to reach the sink, that was either very embarrassing on his part or spectacular on Timo’s.

“No, Berwald, I came to see you. It’s been months since anyone's seen you anywhere! Have you been asleep this entire time?” Timo stared at him for a while longer, before specifically looking at his eyes.

“...Have you slept at all this entire time?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Berwald took a step back. This was too close for comfort. On the chair Timos’ bag leaned a little to the side to show off fresh groceries. Did he bring all this just for him…?

“ ‘M fine. Just…” His brain couldn't come up with a response fast enough.

“Why?”

Timo saw right through him.

He closed his eyes and sighed- shakier than he would’ve liked, “T’ g’ve you space.”

Timo’s eyes widened, and before he could ask why again, Berwald offered him a seat.

“I’d like t’ tell you, ‘f you don’t mind staying.”

 

Timo was the last good thing in the world to him not so long ago. There are more though, of course. Like little white dogs that steal car keys and need walks. Exited younger nations that no matter how fine they are alone, do appreciate family. (And aforementioned white dog.) Evenings in parks, cracking jokes during meetings, and cooking on sundays are all good to him.

Perhaps not as good though, as calling Timo his wife.

**Author's Note:**

> Im cryin I love my boys. Anyway, this is my first fanfic on AO3!! And my first fanfiction for hetalia! Constructive criticism is 110% appreciated since I write most of my stuff way too late at night lmao. Thanks for reading!!


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